


The Hell Series

by house_of_lantis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince of Hell Samuel and Master Carver Dean; a moment in the Master Carver's torture chamber.</p><p>This is based on a prompt by thestraychild who wanted Prince!Sam and MasterCarver!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince of Hell and the Master Carver

Dean’s favorite prey was the child molesters. He liked having six or seven child molesters strapped to his racks, facing each other in a circle, watching each other as Dean worked. Usually, Dean enjoyed working in privacy. He liked the intimacy of being with just one prey, focusing his entire attention on them, and giving them his due diligence as the Master Carver. It wouldn’t do if the Master Carver of Hell was somehow perceived as weak or merciful.

Dean was neither. The demons whispered that Dean’s mercilessness was only surpassed by that of his brother, Samuel, the Prince of Hell.

As Master Carver, Dean took his duties seriously. He studied the ancient texts, written by previous Master Carvers, and began writing his own journal, detailing each torture and making recommendations for improvement for the next time that Dean used a specific method.

“I hate child molesters,” he said, smiling at them. “I can’t think of enough cruel and painful punishments for the likes of you…but that don’t mean that I won’t try. “ He gave a deep, throaty laugh. “Bring them!”

One of the walls seemed to just open into blackness and his seven prey turned to watch in horror as Dean’s torture apprentices wheeled in seven torture devices that would not be out of place in a Medieval dungeon. Dean clapped his hands and then waved them away, shooing his apprentices out of the room. The wall solidified back to deep rust red.

Dean sighed, eyeing each of the devices. One of the things he enjoyed most about being Master Carver was building the devices. “I guess you fellas are wondering what these are,” Dean said, smiling at them. “This one is called the Brazen Bull. I put one of you in there and then light a fire.” He knocked his knuckles against the oblong device. “This is made from copper, makes it work real nice as a thermal conductor.” He looked over at the seven of them, stretched out on his racks – ohhh, but this wasn’t their first visit to his chambers; Dean just enjoyed spending more time with this group – and pointed his finger at Robert. “You get the Brazen Bull first – don’t worry, you’ll all get a turn.”

Dean laughed, ignoring the moans and the pleas coming from them. He just walked to the next device, gave them a little introduction, and then selected the prey for it. At the end, Dean stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes. By his will, the prey were taken off the racks and placed on the device, positioned around the room so that they could watch each other suffer. The fires blazed high for just a moment and Dean opened his eyes, listening to the change in the quality of screams.

Dean watched as Robert twisted, trying to find a place to put his hand and bared feet, literally hopping around inside of the copper device. His flesh seared off, whenever he had to put his hand or foot down. Robert turned to look at Dean, screaming and begging to be freed. Dean just shrugged and shook his head, watching for a long moment as Robert fell on his side, the sizzle of his flesh as loud as his scream.

Next, Dean stood in front of James, smiling slightly. This was one of his favorite devices – just a large wooden chair with spikes everywhere. James was embedded completely, the spikes coming out from every part of his body. Dean cocked his head and created a blazing fire beneath him. He smiled as James screamed, desperately trying to pull off the spikes. Dean closed his eyes and pictured a spike coming from the back of the chair, forming and pushing through flesh and bone until James began to scream and gurgle, the spike poking through his tongue and out of his mouth.

“Huh…I’ll have to make a note of that for the journal,” Dean murmured to himself, scratching at his chin. “Maybe spikes through the eyes—“

“Dean.”

“Prince Samuel,” Dean intoned, turning and giving him a nod of his head.

“Master Carver,” Samuel said, nodding back. “May I enter your domain?”

“Come on in.” Dean grinned at Samuel, waiting for him to come and stand beside him as Dean looked at James. Samuel cocked his head to the side, enjoying the spectacle.

“The old tortures still strike the greatest fears,” Samuel said, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Humans designed some of the best mindfuck devices,” Dean said, turning to gaze up at his brother.

“And you were always fascinated by them.”

“Yeah. Soooo…whatcha doing down here?”

“Can’t the Prince of Hell just drop by for a friendly hello?”

“Usually, the Prince of Hell only visits when it’s business.”

“Let me make up for it, Dean.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and chuckled. “All right, Sammy.” The sound of a scream caught his attention and Dean let out a sigh, scratching his temple and looking at Samuel. “Uhh…let me finish up here and we can go get something? Hey, we can go topside and grab a couple of burgers and a beer. Whaddaya say?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I stay and watch?”

“Sure, you can stay,” Dean said, laughing softly. “These tortures will last for days anyway; these guys are all child molesters so I like to spend as much time as possible with them before I put them back in the Pit.”

Samuel took a chair and propped his foot over one knee. “I love watching you work, Dean. I always have.”


	2. If Hell Won't Come to You, then Go to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A jealous Dean who wishes that Sam would visit more often.

Dean was feeling rather…itchy these days. It had been, well, a long time since he saw Sam. He tapped his foot on the floor, making a face and staring at the wall over the shoulder of his latest prey on the rack. She finally made an inquisitive sound through the leather gag, raising her eyebrows.

 _“Hmmm…mmhh…hmmm?”_

Dean looked up at the prey and grinned. “Oh hey, yeah, sorry. I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

He picked up the barbed riding crop and slammed it on the flat of her stomach, watching as she screamed, writhing on the rack. He slapped it over the top of her thighs and sighed as she gurgled, twisting and dangling from her wrists. He whipped it across her breasts and she raised her knees, trying to cover her vulnerability. Any other day, Dean would’ve thought that was kind of funny and cute.

Tears poured down her cheeks and she sniffled, gulping down her screams. She stared at him with disappointed green eyes.

 _“Mmmhhh…hmmm….nnnnmmhh.”_

“Yeah, I know, my heart’s not in it today,” Dean said, sighing. “Let’s take it up again tomorrow, first thing in the morning, okay? I promise you’ll have all of my attention tomorrow.”

The prey nodded, panting through her nose. Dean waved his hand and healed her of all of her wounds, returning her to beautiful unmarked flesh. He snapped his fingers and two of his torture apprentices appeared.

“Put her back in the Pit, but I want her back in the morning,” he said, tossing the riding crop to one of his apprentices.

They bowed their heads as he sauntered out of his torture chambers. He walked to the large, circular bed and fell on top of the silky covers, letting out a sigh. He closed his eyes and wondered if he shouldn’t just take a walk down to visit Asmodeus, the demon of Lust, and just slake his lust on his entire stable of lovelies.

There was a soft knock on his door. Dean propped his chin on the crook of his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Master…the Prince bids your company.”

Dean rolled his eyes and snorted. “Well, tell him that I’m busy.”

There was a pause and a quick clearing of throat. “Um…Master…the Prince will know that you are…deceiving him.”

“Well, I’m a Hell demon, idiot, whatcha expect me to do? Tell the truth?” He said, rolling on his back and staring at the high ceiling of his private chambers.

“Master,” the voice called, beseechingly. “I do not want to answer the Prince by bringing him your words.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. He moved off the bed and opened the door, looking at the demon. “Dude, listen, just tell Sam that I am too tired to visit him.”

The demon bowed his head and took a deep breath, moving away from Dean.

“Poor sucker,” Dean murmured, watching the demon disappear. He closed the door and locked it, then fell back on the bed again. He looked at his journal and moved a few pillows under his chest to prop himself up. He opened it to the half-filled page and picked up his favorite pen (it would never run out of ink, but the ink was the blood of prey) and began to make notes on how to make his session with his last prey a little more tantalizing in the morning.

“Dean.”

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin, his pen skidding across the page. He turned to see Sam standing beside the bed, looking at him. “You could learn to knock, you know.”

“There is no door that can shut me out in Hell, Dean,” he said, smiling slightly. “Why did you ignore my call?”

“Did you take your anger out on the demon? Shouldn’t kill your messengers, Sammy, sets a bad precedent,” Dean told him, turning back to his journal and running his thumb along the ugly mark, clearing it from the page. He kind of liked being a demon at times, liked all the different little powers that were useful in his day-to-day life in Hell.

“I didn’t kill the demon,” Sam said, sighing. “But I want to know why you didn’t come to see me when I asked for you.”

“Maybe I’m busy.”

“Working on your journals?” Sam said, moving on the bed and curling up on his side, watching Dean. “I talked to your last couple of prey. They said that you weren’t, um, focused on your work with them. I think they were disappointed by the lack of attention by the Master Carver of Hell.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they all want to be tortured by Dean Winchester, yadda yadda yadda.”

“I know that your work and your art are important to you,” Sam said, softly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Sammy. You may be Prince of Hell but I’m still your big brother. I’ll put you over my knee and—“

Sam rolled on his belly, offering up his plump ass. “Any time you want, baby.” He grinned, seeing Dean stare and blink, mouth opened. “Ohhh…I see. You were being sulky because I hadn’t visited you sooner.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“I have duties and responsibilities, too,” Sam said, reaching out to stroke up Dean’s arm. “Don’t you think I’d rather be here with you, watching you work?”

Dean shrugged Sam’s hand off his shoulder and started writing in his journal again. “Yeah, you’re busy, too, being Prince of Hell. Blah blah fucking blah.” He looked at Sam from the side of his eye. “I’ve heard that you’re planning to marry.”

Sam took a deep breath, falling on his back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s for political gain—“

“You’re planning to marry Anna.”

Sam looked at him. “Political gain, Dean, nothing more.” He sighed, moving on his side and looking at his brother. “She didn’t interest me when we were topside; she doesn’t interest me now. But she’s a fallen angel, Dean, and she took back her Grace; she’s not really Heaven’s, so why not become Hell’s.”

Dean wanted to believe him. “She’s so lovely.”

“And not my type at all,” Sam said and then narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Should I be worried about you and Anna hooking up again?” Sam grabbed Dean’s chin. “I won’t forgive that kind of betrayal.”

Dean made a face. “When have I ever betrayed you, Sammy? No chick is worth it.”

Sam kissed him, pushing Dean onto his back, ruthlessly taking what he wanted more than anything: Dean’s submission. The kiss was brutal, teeth gnashing against soft flesh, blood dripping between them. Sam’s hands were like claws, tearing into Dean’s skin and muscles. Dean groaned in pain and pleasure, wrapping his legs around Sam, aligning their cocks against each other. It was hot and hard and fast between them.

Dean’s pleasure was supercharged at the feel of Sam’s teeth buried into his shoulder, taking away a chunk of skin and muscle, blood pooling between them. Dean shuddered, looking up at his brother. Sam’s face was covered with his blood, his eyes glowing. Dean sneered up at Sam, grabbing a handful of his hair and wrenching his face closer, biting into Sam’s cheek. They both howled and came, full of blood and come, pain and pleasure, brother and lover, sinner and sinner.

Dean fell back on the bed, Sam collapsing on top of him. They were both panting, covered in each other’s blood, sated and pleased. Sam turned to look at Dean, smiling at him.

“You know, you never have to wait to see me if you want to,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers against the vicious bite mark on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s like you said, I may be Prince of Hell, but you’re my brother and lover, Dean.”

Dean moved his head to the side to meet Sam’s gaze. “And when you’re married?”

“Especially when I’m married,” Sam whispered, tracing his fingers down Dean’s slick stomach, swirling his fingertips in their combined come. “I need you more than you know. She will be my Princess, but she will never know me the way that you do."


End file.
